Apocalyptic Beginnings Box Set

by M. D. Massey

  “You da man.” Nate greedily eyed the bottle. Uppers meant he didn’t have to crash before the party started. I’m sho’ tired of Paxton hoarding the stash. One day he’d kill Paxton and take over. One day. Nate wanted to get to Vegas first. Then he’d shoot the fucker dead in the head and record him turning all zombie-eyed. Add Paxton to his collection of zombie clips—that was something worth waiting for.

  “LuLu, I need a refill of your disgusting coffee. Which reminds me, the ‘First Rule of the Day,’ from now on, Ella makes the coffee,” Paxton proclaimed.

  Nate frowned. Is Paxton ever gonna stop making rules?

  Paxton tossed him a roll of blue masking tape. “Tape their wrists behind their backs. They won’t get very far,” Paxton ordered.

  “But why you gotta go now?” Nate whined. “It’s time to get the party started—if you know what I mean.” Nate snorted and grabbed his junk, wanting everyone to see. Ooh wee, I’m so playin’ Paxton. Won’t that fucker be surprised when I’m the bossman?

  “Nate, ‘Rule Number Two,’ always be ready for a fast getaway. Anything could happen, anytime. Although, I seriously doubt Dean can track us here,” Paxton said.

  Paxton’s such an f’n know it all. Nate whooped, “Yeah, we really fooled Dean, hah Paxton? Yes-siree-Bob.” Tricking Dean and Luther to go cruisin’ off to the zombie-infested airbase had been his idea—he was pretty sure. The old fart should have known it would be crawling with Zs. He and Paxton had checked out the air base in August, and it had been a fuckin’ zombie-zoo.

  “There’s a nice, big-boy truck down the next street,” Paxton continued, annoying Nate with his self-impo-tent talk as usual. “I’ll have to hotwire it and jump-start it. Back in a few. Then my friend, the fun begins.” Paxton finally left.

  Nate felt a killer-crash comin’ on. He needed a few minutes of peace, and then he’d be ready to party. “Gonna save all the whores in the world, so there’s a place for me and my mama in heaven.” Hot-damn, I just wrote me a number f’n one country hit . . . Save all the whores in the world!

  LuLu handed him a cup of coffee. “Looks like you can use a jolt of caffeine.”

  “Sho’nuff, in a minute. How about you tie them up like the bossman says fo’ he gets his panties in a wad.” Nate couldn’t keep from laughing. I sho’ am a funny fucker. Should have done stand-up comedy. That would have made his mama proud.

  “Yeah, yeah, why bother. We can handle them,” LuLu said simple enough.

  LuLu must be tired of Paxton actin’ like tough shit and all that. Paxton ain’t so tough—not after he’s a zombie. Nate slouched back in the recliner, lost in a daydream, thinking how Paxton would look as a zombie. He chuckled and snorted. A quick nap to recharge, and he’d be good to go.

  Scarlett waited and watched, praying with every inch of her scared-shitless heart that Nate would miraculously fall asleep in the next few minutes. The room was silent as if they secretly waited for Nate’s rather loud obnoxious snoring.

  At least Ella wasn’t crying, but her lovely Latino complexion had turned the pasty color of a newly-turned corpse, accentuated by the lovely pearl earrings Justin had given her for her sixteenth birthday. Why she noticed the earrings with everything that was happening, she really didn’t know. Her senses were definitely working overtime. She studied every detail almost as if in slow motion while racking her brain for a viable escape plan.

  Everyone was unbearably tense. “How about a game of Gin Rummy?” Scarlett asked in an optimistic tone. Justin looked at her as if she might be insane. “Just go with it,” Scarlett whispered.

  They sat on the hardwood floor around the mahogany coffee table. Justin dealt them each a hand. How long does it take to hotwire a truck? Knowing Paxton, not long.

  About five minutes into their game, Nate’s obnoxious snoring started. LuLu silently stepped out of the recliner next to Nate, leaving it in its reclined position perhaps afraid the squeaking of the leather or hinges might awaken him. For some reason, LuLu tiptoed to the fireplace. LuLu snatched the poker from the ornamental fireplace stand. Whop! She hit Nate on the forehead with it, just like that.

  “Go!” LuLu screamed as a bloody streak trickled down Nate’s forehead.

  “Come with us, LuLu,” Scarlett said while running to the window, slowly pulling the curtains back to get a quick view of the front yard. Paxton was at the end of the residential intersection checking out the tires on a blue truck.

  “Go!” LuLu screamed again.

  “LuLu, we can’t leave you. They’ll kill you!” Scarlett ran to LuLu and shook her by the shoulders in an attempt to reason with her.

  LuLu shoved her out of the way.

  “Justin, take Ella and run!” LuLu warned.

  Scarlett didn’t know what to think. She’d been trying to organize a plan all morning. Her plan really sucked, but without weapons, supplies or vehicles, there was no such thing as a good plan. We’ll just have to wing it . . .

  “Justin, you and Ella escape out the patio door,” Scarlett said.

  “Scarlett, we aren’t leaving you here with those, those evil men,” Ella exclaimed.

  “We should leave together—” Justin hurried. They ran to the patio door.

  “You know Paxton will catch us if we’re together. If we split up, the odds are someone will make it out of here,” Scarlett said, thinking out loud.

  “Are you for real? This is like that graveyard scene in a horror flick where some idiot says ‘ye-ah, I know—let’s split up,’ ” Justin spouted.

  Justin was right. Still, she had to go with her compelling intuition, and it told her they had to go separate ways in order to save Ella. Paxton didn’t really want Ella. No, Paxton wanted her.

  Scarlett ignored Justin’s comments. “Don’t go to the hotel. That’s the first place he’ll look. Reno. Go to Reno!” she said, giving Ella a hurried hug. “Who knows, maybe you can catch up with Luther in Reno. Or, hide-out somewhere along I-80 and wait for Luther. Dean might even be going to Reno too,” Scarlett said it as convincingly as she could. But it was all BS; she really didn’t know.

  “So, you’re meeting us in Reno?” Justin asked slowly.

  “Pinole. I’m going to my sister’s house,” Scarlett lied. A warning flashed like a red strobe light, flashing so brilliantly in her mind it blinded her momentarily. “He’ll find us if we’re together,” her words rushed out. Time was running out. Besides, LuLu would probably tell Paxton she was going to Pinole. It could buy them precious time. Sadly, Scarlett finally accepted the fact that Pinole was no longer an option. Not ever.

  “Okay, I’ll Facebook you, Scarlett Lewis from Roseville, when everything’s back to normal,” Justin said, giving her one of his trademarked smirks.

  “Take care of him,” Scarlett whispered and gave Ella another hug, afraid to let her go.

  Justin and Ella darted out the patio door, holding hands. The young couple jumped the fence to the backyard directly behind them. She prayed Paxton wouldn’t start searching there first. No doubt LuLu would point Paxton in Scarlett’s direction.

  “Okay, LuLu, last chance.” Scarlett tensed.

  LuLu stood in front of her, blocking the patio’s sliding glass door. “Not so fast,” LuLu rasped.

  That’s when she noticed the gun in LuLu’s hand. Nate’s gun. Pools of hatred swirled in LuLu’s hazel eyes, blazing of hell, the vision so real it singed her skin. Scarlett instantly shut her eyes; however, when she closed her eyes, the vision became even more searing. Intense hatred seemed to consume LuLu’s soul. LuLu wanted her dead, of that she had no doubt.

  “You’re gonna love this part . . . shoot me,” LuLu said with a deadpan expression.

  “What?” Scarlett gasped.

  “Got to make this whole scam look real or Paxton will kill me. You know he will.” LuLu dared her with those hellish-hazel eyes. LuLu shoved the gun in her hand. “Shoot me in the arm!” LuLu demanded.

  Scarlett stared, speechless.

  “Do it!” LuLu’s eyes
shrieked louder than her voice ever could. “You snitch bitch, you little Miss Prissy, goody two shoes, I’m too good for everyone . . .”

  Click. Scarlett squeezed the trigger again. Click.

  “That piece of shit. Can you believe Paxton gave Nate an unloaded gun?” LuLu raved.

  Scarlett checked the chamber. No bullets.

  LuLu dashed into the den and returned with the fireplace poker. Nate’s blood still coated the hook. “Hit me on the back of my shoulder,” LuLu hissed. “Swing away. And don’t go wimping-out on me.” LuLu turned around and faced the sliding glass door, her back toward Scarlett.

  Scarlett stood there, stunned.

  “You snitch b—”

  “All right, all right.” Slam! Scarlett nailed her on the back, carefully avoiding the poker’s bloodied-hook. LuLu crashed into the sliding glass door.

  “Well, is that convincing enough for you?” Scarlett fumed. LuLu’s dishwater-blond hair smeared blood on the glass door as she slid, slowly, slowly to the Pergo flooring, lifeless. LuLu collapsed to the floor, forehead against the sliding glass door. Scarlett hadn’t planned on that; she didn’t know the blow would knock her head against the glass.

  “What have I done? LuLu! LuLu—” she cried, letting the poker fall to the floor. Jeez, how she hated Pergo flooring, and she really, really hated it as she stared down at LuLu’s lifeless body.

  The faint sound of the truck pulling into the driveway startled her. Time’s up. Scarlett grabbed the poker and then slipped out the sliding glass door. She jumped the fence to the house next door and then crept along the side of the house. No sign of Paxton. She hoped he was inside, and she darted across the street. She hid behind an overgrown Oleander bush. Between the foliage, she had a clear view of the front door and the truck, allowing her to see the direction Paxton searched first. Surely, Paxton wouldn’t expect her to remain in the vicinity.

  If Scarlett absolutely had to, she’d use herself as bait to lure Paxton away from Ella and Justin. Then again, if Nate was dead, she didn’t need to worry about Ella as much. She wrestled with the possibility that she could handle Paxton. There was no doubt in her mind Paxton was a sick bastard, a psychopath, maybe one of those sadist-masochist she had read about in college. On the other hand, Nate was the unpredictable one, just plain evil. Who knew what horrid things he had planned? So, Scarlett waited, crouched behind the Oleander bush.

  A gunshot ripped through the air, causing her heart to pound even harder. A sudden burst of heat ripple through her entire body. At that moment, she knew someone had died. Nate or LuLu? She watched. And waited for Paxton to leave the house.

  Scarlett closed her eyes, willing for a glimpse of one of her vivid dream-like images, which had often haunted her these past few months since the flu outbreak. She shrieked silently to her subconscious: Where are you when I need you? Only darkness. She hid behind the bush and concentrated. Willing. Until, a blurry image deep in the far corners of her mind flirted with her. It was the image of a little girl. Ella, when she was a child? With her mind, she focused in on the image, willing it to come in clearer.

  A commotion from the inside of the house disrupted her concentration. It was Paxton, shouting at someone, which meant either LuLu or Nate was still alive. Paxton ran out of the house with his duffle bag and then drove off in the blue Ford truck he’d just acquired. He sped down the street, turning left, the opposite direction Justin and Ella had gone.

  An irrational urge tempted her to run inside the house to see if LuLu was still alive. Maybe, this time, she could convince LuLu to escape with her. But if she ran into Nate . . . could she kill him, too? Like LuLu. I’m just paranoid. Chances are, I didn’t kill LuLu. While her conscience flip-flopped, Paxton raced off in the opposite direction, in the direction Justin and Ella had gone. But, there was no telling where those two were at this point. It had been at least thirty minutes or so since Justin and Ella had left.

  Scarlett darted from bush to bush, and house to house, toward the residential intersection. She needed to be more careful after passing the barricade. She was in creeper territory. She knelt behind a tree at the end of the street and waited for signs of Paxton. The next thing she knew, Paxton raced down the street in the opposite direction again. Luckily, he hadn’t spotted her. He turned down the next street.

  She cautiously approached the intersection to get a better view. She spotted Paxton’s Ram truck a few houses down. The truck he had traded in earlier that morning, the driver’s door still open, hood left up. Scarlett took a last look around and tilted her head, listening. No sign of anyone. Making a run for it, she dashed inside the truck just as a pack of creepers meandered around the corner a half-block away. She scrunched down in the seat and slowly closed the door, not latching it shut, afraid it might alert the pack.

  She waited for the pack to amble down the street. She almost let out a cry of excitement when she noticed the key in the ignition. Holding her breath, she turned the key one notch, praying it still had gas. Enough to get away. The idiot light flashed in her face, less than an eighth of a tank. She looked back at the pack loitering in the middle of the street, their heads twisting about, sniffing. Was her scent in the air?

  Scarlett ducked further down in the seat and peered out of the window through a tiny gap between the truck’s open hood and the bottom edge of the windshield, and through that minuscule opening, she watched. If they spotted her—smelled her human scent, she’d be trapped in the truck until Paxton inadvertently found her. It was too dangerous to close the hood. They were only a few feet away. She could handle two, maybe three of them, but not an entire flipping pack. No, she knew her limits.

  Paxton came charging back down the street, right past her. What? She was completely blindsided by his sudden reemergence. Paxton spun the truck around and backed the truck through the approaching pack. Then he turned around and backed over the ones he’d missed. And he didn’t stop until every one of them had been pulverized into the street’s asphalt—like mashing avocados into guacamole with salsa. Lots of salsa. Then Paxton roared off in the truck, turning right a few streets down. Think he’s pissed.

  She wanted to gag, the air ripe with rotting creepers. Finally, she turned the key. The truck started. Must be my lucky day! After closing the hood, she pointed the truck in the opposite direction Paxton had gone and sped down as many streets as she could, knowing she had to get out of there fast before Paxton noticed the truck was missing.

  Scarlett had no flipping idea where she was. Justin had told her earlier they were near a big mall, Arden Fair Mall. He had remembered seeing it when they had exited the highway during their escape the night of the fire. Unfortunately, she didn’t know her way around Sacramento. The freeway entrance by the mall was the only one she knew of in Sacramento unless she happened upon another entrance. If I can make it to the mall, I can get out of here.

  She drove around the neighborhood, searching for a road out. She was trapped in a nightmare, knowing at any moment Paxton might show up in the rearview mirror. The hum of the engine attracted stragglers. Creepers stumbled into the streets, reminding her of a childhood memory: kids running to the street programmed like Pavlov’s dog to the music of the ice cream truck. Only these weren’t kids, and she wasn’t driving an ice cream truck. And, she was almost out of gas. Then what? She wanted to scream. Get a grip, Scarlett . . .

  “Damn!” She passed Blackberry Lane, again. She had been there minutes ago. The stragglers had formed into a pack. They were ready for her when the familiar sound of the truck’s engine approached again. She had to get out of there, but the truck had a problem going more than twenty miles per hour. It shimmied uncontrollably. She prayed one of the wheels didn’t go flying off like the Mini Cooper.

  At the next intersection, the remnants of a burnt down school brought chills to her bones. Peering down the intersection, commercial buildings lined the street. Finally, a main road, and she drove down Howe Avenue around the mass of deserted vehicles.

  Th
e truck shimmied so badly she could barely go ten miles per hour. The truck definitely wouldn’t last much longer. She turned left onto Arden Way at the “Howe about Arden” intersection. One of her favorite shoe stores was in that shopping center, but she couldn’t remember the name of the store. In a world of creepers and psychopaths, shopping no longer held any relevance.

  A sigh of relief escaped Scarlett’s lips when she spotted the shopping mall up ahead. She had often shopped the Arden Fair Mall during the Holiday Season. The mall’s huge parking lot might be a safe place to find a better vehicle. Ding! A little light went off inside of her head when she heard the annoying sound of tools shifting about in the back of the truck. Are there jumper cables in the back of the truck? She could jump-start a car!

  She cranked the wheel hard and turned into the mall’s parking lot. Surprisingly, well, not so surprisingly, the mall’s parking lot was nearly empty. As she recalled, Sears was at the other end of the mall. She decided to start her search there since it was a more secluded area. She made her way to the Sear’s end of the mall. She scouted three possible vehicles and several creepers off in the distance, but she had at least five minutes or so.

  “Damn!” Paxton had taken the jumper cables. Still, it was possible one of the three cars had a set of cables. Does anyone carry jumper cables these days? Practically everyone has a flippin’ new car. That’s it. Most likely the oldest vehicle would be equipped with cables, she figured, trying to think logically.

  She glanced at the three vehicles. The silver Toyota Camry looked the oldest based on its faded paint job, but the door stood open. She figured it was a “no go,” the battery most likely would be too dead for a jump-start. She popped the trunk. “Ta-Dah, cables!”

  She just needed a car with gas and a key. Yeah, right! That left a Subaru and a Scion. The doors were locked. She sat on the pavement deciding her next move, keeping her eye on four sets of creepers closing in on her, but she still had a couple of minutes. If necessary, she’d drive the truck to the back of the mall.